


Wrong Name

by HolmesianDeduction (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Arguing, Implied Relationships, Jealousy, M/M, Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/HolmesianDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things turn caustic at 221b Baker Street, when Watson lets slip the wrong name during sex.</p>
<p>Done as a random prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Name

             ” _When_?”

             Watson blinked rapidly, whether at the unexpected vehemence in the other man’s voice, or the way Holmes’ teeth clicked together millimetres from his face, he wasn’t sure.  ”When, what?”

             ”You.  My brother.   _When_.”  The detective’s speech was rapid, his gestures more and more erratic as he circled the room until, stopping just behind Watson’s shoulder, his breath hissed against the doctor’s ear.  ” _Well_?”

             ”Honestly,” Watson rose to his feet abruptly, forcing the other man back a few steps, and finished fastening his belt before looking for his shirt, “it’s none of your business, Holmes.”

             Unexpectedly, a hand clamped onto his shoulder, fingertips pressing against old scar tissue as Holmes jerked him back around to face him.  ” _Holmes_.”  Watson’s voice dropped an octave in warning.

             Ignoring the warning, Holmes’ upper lip twitched into a sneer, his tone turning venomous as he looked the other man over.  ”I thought _Mary_ was a stretch…but  _Mycroft_?”

             He never saw, but rather _heard_ Watson’s fist collide with his cheekbone, and by the time his vision cleared, the other man was on the offence, hands pinning the detective’s shoulders to a bookshelf, his usually cool gaze flashing in anger.

             ”Say that again.”  The words escaped from between gritted teeth.  When Holmes failed to respond, the doctor spat out an answer, each word sharply punctuated with an acidic press of carefully trimmed nails into skin.  ”It was  _years_ ago,  _Sherlock_ ,” Holmes flinched at the way Watson’s lips wrapped around his first name, but the other man paid it no mind, instead continuing, his voice raising dangerously, “before” he waved an arm to a doorway, “all of  _this_.”

             Looking for all the world like a stunned bird, Holmes opened his mouth only to close it again a moment later, falling completely silent.  Exhaling heavily, his anger waning, but still simmering, Watson released his shoulders.  ”Is that enough of an answer for you?  Is that what you wanted?”  When Holmes didn’t respond, he turned away and resumed retrieving his shirt, adding quietly, “And don’t you  _ever_ bring Mary into this again.   _Ever._ ”

             ”I…” Holmes paused, dampening his lips as if steeling himself against his own words.  ”I am sorry.”

             For a moment, Watson froze, his eyes rooted on the other man, on the startled, yet slightly repentant expression - he knew that Holmes wasn’t apologising for drilling him or for his tone, but he also knew what he  _was_ apologising for.  Sighing, Watson shook his head.  ”You’re damn right, you’re sorry.”

             Exhaling, Holmes averted his eyes slightly before adding quickly.  ”But honestly, I would credit you with more taste than to sleep with my brother.”

             To this, Watson raised a finger in warning.  ”Not another word.”

             ”If you insi-“

             ”I do.  Now get a shirt on.  We have dinner at six.”


End file.
